December 30, 2006
The Finish Line
And so my bookish goal this year was to read 200 books, and mine has been a triumphant failure. A failure, because alas I’ve only managed 171, but a triumph all the same because I really don’t imagine I could have read any more than that. And I remain ambivalent about stupid reading marathons, because while I’m so glad I read all these books, I know I read some quick. Though my Great Summer Rereading Project did make up for that (and I will continue to hold such projects each summer in the future). But maybe my husband would like to see my face once in a while, rather than just my eyebrows. But it was an absolute joy to be consumed by reading, and to be consuming reading at once. The stack on my bedside was never too too overwhelming.
There is a slight chance I will get to 172 by finishing The Voyage Out by tomorrow, but I don’t think so. My NY Res is to read a mite slower this year, and I’m starting now. (I think Reading Like a Writer will help to underline my pact.) Anyway, it is with great joy that I’ve kept finding friends turned up on my doorstep the last few days, and it’s quite rude to read while hostessing.
What I have found worthwhile without a doubt, however, is keeping a list of books read. “Books Read Since 2006” says mine, and I’ll maintain it long into the future. It’s an excellent reference and archive, and like a diary of sorts. Moreover, it detects patterns I may not have noticed, and makes clear the gaps in my bookish endeavours. Though perhaps I’ve just got a thing for catalogues.
December 20, 2006
From here and there
The Penelopiad is being remade for the stage. And though it happened awhile back, John Steffler is Canada’s new poet laureate (and I liked his novel.)
In terms of non-fiction, I’m reading uTOpia at the moment, which is interesting in parts, but terribly obnoxious in others (one person wrote an essay about how he was connected to each of the forces of Toronto’s cultural renaissance [ie someone was his second cousin, though they’d only become acquainted recently, and he used to go to parties at so and so’s house, etc etc] which I think was supposed to have a point beyond that but I missed it).
The big news is that Bronwyn’s back in town, and showers galore are the theme of the holidays. As matron of honour, I have organized a fete for Saturday afternoon, but then I can’t say anything more because it’s a surprise. Just that it’s bookish. We’re keeping holiday gatherings to a minimum, as I’ve got a lot of work to do these days. Tomorrow night, however, I am learning how to make risotto, which is exciting. We’re getting to the end of the Christmas baking, like the gluttons we are. I realized I made it a week earlier this year, which probably wasn’t the best idea.
December 17, 2006
Because I had time to read newspapers
Zoe Heller on the film adaptation of Notes on a Scandal. Oprah brings up Heller’s favourite books (via Maud Newton). From around the world, the best fiction of 06. Fannie Flagg, whose writing has always delighted me, has a new book out. On translating Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. The Guardian Books Blog continues to bud. I loved Heather Mallick’s Triumph of the Eggheads. And Joan Didion’s collected nonfiction reviewed in the Globe.
December 7, 2006
A Wonderful Story
“The Third and Final Continent” by Jhumpa Lahiri is the best short story I’ve ever read, and has been endorsed by the likes of Rebecca Rosenblum and my husband Stuart. And I’ve just found a copy of it online. For some absolute reading pleasure, I direct you here. And you absolutely won’t be sorry.
November 23, 2006
Fun at the Guardians Books Blog, and elsewhere.
My favourite blog Maud Newton has had a makeover! Fun stuff at the GBB- is it wrong to throw old books away? I now make a point of pruning my shelves twice a year, and any books I don’t love go to the Vic Book Sale or to someone I know who just might love it. In spite of this editing of my collection, the collection continues to grow but at a rate that is partially manageable (ie we only needed to get one new bookcase last year). On how to sell a book by its cover, namely call it after a penguin.? On favouritizing books, and oh I wouldn’t know where to start. On poetry reading misgivings. Lionel Shriver comments. Honours for Bookstart, which is the organization in the world I most want to work for.
November 23, 2006
Dreams are boring but…
last night I had a bookish nightmare! I dreamt that I somehow ended up with a copy of this rather controversial book, and didn’t know what to do with it. I didn’t want to give it away as then people would know I owned it, I didn’t want to sell it as that would be unethical, I couldn’t just throw it out because I didn’t want to be responsible for that filth in the world, and I couldn’t have kept it because then I would have been turned into a pillar of salt. Dilemma was solved by the alarm clock, I think.
Now reading Tristram Shandy, which I am enjoying actually, but I think it’s gonna be a long long time.
November 11, 2006
Lately
What I’ve learned lately includes Noel Gallagher, such a rockstar! Here for Hilary Mantel on Alice Munro’s new one. Though it’s quite last week, Philip Marchand thinks Toronto has no stories, or novels at least. And this wonderful obit of Alexander Graham Bell’s granddaughter, from last week’s Globe. Most significantly, and disturbingly, after four years together, my husband and I have only just learned that we know different versions of “I’m A Little Teapot”.
November 10, 2006
The Great (fill in the blank) Novel
A novel is not just a novel, but rather the product of a nation. I’m no scholar, and I realize this idea is by no means original, but it fascinates me. After living abroad for three years, I lost the ability to read Canadian fiction, even though it was my home and native book. I couldn’t touch the stuff. I’d been reading nothing but British fiction for ages, and the CanLit seemed to miss the point of what I’d come to think a novel was supposed to do. I was missing the wit, the erudition. There were too many spirits in the trees. Etc. And even though I’ve got back into the CanLit groove, BritFic is still where I’m most at home. I require a dictionary by my side to read British fiction properly, and I’ve always got a stack of new words learned once I’m done.
I don’t read much American fiction, however. Not contemporary stuff at least, but when I do read it, the words I end up looking up always have to do with literary theory and are never quite as interesting to learn as the British words. So now I’m reading The Emperor’s Children, which I knew was American from the second I saw its size. I’m enjoying it, but it fits me awkwardly. Not just because it’s heavy. I think I’ll like it in the end, but I have to shift my brain around to make it work.
Novels from Australia or New Zealand read quite Britishly to me, but then turn out to be hung from their toes in certain places. You think you’re in London and then a wallaby darts across the road. It’s unnerving. And I struggle with novels in translation, as I think each writer approaches their work with their own culture’s understanding of what a novel is, and when I pick up that novel, I’m looking for something different. Japanese fiction absolutely mystifies me. Orhan Pamuk didn’t thrill me. Part of this is because I’m not that clever, and I read novels a bit cheaply. I find a novel is not really a novel unless its a novel to me.
